


one moment more

by Chosenfire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, reference to canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 18:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chosenfire/pseuds/Chosenfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After work John Stilinski tries to catch an intimate moment with his wife, only to be interrupted by his son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one moment more

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the week 1 challenge "First time/Last time" at Mating Games on Livejournal. Thank you to skies for betaing this for for me!

John closed the front door behind him, muffling the noise of the rain outside. He shrugged off his jacket, hooking it on the coat hanger, and tossed his keys in the bright red bowl his wife had placed there just for that purpose. He had asked her at the time if it was really necessary, but over the years had come to appreciate it. 

“John.” Moira was at the top of the stairs, her voice soft as she held a finger to her lips. Her dark hair was still wet from the shower and she was already dressed for bed. Her bare feet took the steps two at a time until she was standing in front of him, her fingers curling around his tie.

“He asleep?” he asked her, softening his voice as his thumb found the skin between her shirt and her shorts. He hooked his thumb in the material of her shorts and pulled her closer. 

She laughed against his mouth. “Just checked, out like a light.” She backed up towards the steps, pulling him by his tie. John laughed, letting himself be led, enjoying the wicked smile that curved her lips. She turned, still holding his tie, and he crowded closely against her as they went up the steps to their room. His hand still rested on her hip and he used that to spin her around as the door closed behind them. He pressed her against it, lips attacking her neck and her fingers gripped his hair.

She pushed him away and he let her, watching with delight as she started working on the holster of the gun still strapped on him. She unbuckled it with deft hands, pulling it off his shoulders and automatically checking the safety before she let it rest on the dresser. John reached back to lock the door, knowing their son had a habit of picking the most inconvenient times to ask for a glass of water.

Moira stepped back, pulling her shirt over her head as she went. John worked on his tie, pulling it loose and letting it drop to the floor. He surged forward, cupping her breast in his hand and moving his lips down her neck. He felt her fingers working on the buttons of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and they tumbled to the bed. 

With a preteen in the house they knew time wasn’t on their side as they rushed to shed the rest of their clothes. 

It had been too long since they’d done this, working opposite shifts and making sure Stiles got to and from school, the doctors, and the millions of other errands they had to juggle each week. 

Finally kicking his pants off John moved to help his wife with her shorts, sliding them down her legs. Her legs spread before him and he gave her a quick smile as he shifted, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. The valley between her legs widened and he reached to curl his fingers with her as he licked upwards, teasing her. Her laugh broke out on a moan, her fingers moving to grip his hair again as he worked her over. She was wet across his mouth, the taste of her breaking over his tongue and he ached to bury himself in her. Still, he took his time, loving the feeling of her shaking apart under him.

“John.” Her voice was shaky but firm. “C’mon.” 

He gave her one last lick, smiling into her as he moved up her body. She surged forward to kiss him, her hands hot around him as she guided him into her. They both groaned against each other as her legs wrapped around his waist and his arms curved under her to bring her tighter against him.

They had just set a fast rhythm, both too desperate to go slow when there was a soft knock on the door.

“Mom,” said a small, scratchy voice, “is Dad home?”

John bit back a curse and Moira muffled her moan against his shoulder. They stopped bodies tense and Moira called out “Yeah honey, can you give us a minute?”

John heard a shuffle outside the door and Stiles voice was sad. “I don’t feel good.” The damn kid sounded pathetic and John moved off his wife sighing. Moira was already reaching for her clothes and John did the same, dressing quickly. As soon as his wife was decent John unlocked the door, his heart going out to the sad eyes that poked through. 

“Hey buddy.” He reached out to touch his forehead. It was burning up. “Moira, I think he has a fever.” The phone rang and John grimaced, knowing as late as it was it could only be the station calling him to come back in. 

Moira was already pulling on some sweats, reaching for her jacket. “We’re out of kid’s Tylenol, I’ll take him to get some for the pharmacy.”

John sighed, grabbing his holster to strap it back on. “Drive safe, it’s been raining hard and the roads are dangerous.” He leaned forward to kiss her hard, brushing his hand affectingly through Stiles hair again.

It would be the last time he would see her alive.

Later that night he would get a call from one of the deputies he worked with. The rain had slicked the road and made it difficult to see. His wife had been back from the pharmacy when another car had barreled into hers. 

Stiles would be fine, expect for the panic attacks that would come frequently for months after.

John would look back and treasure the last moments he had with his wife.


End file.
